


If I go far away

by KretinaDivina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aerys's Mental Health, Agoraphobia, Gen, Not Canon Anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 15:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KretinaDivina/pseuds/KretinaDivina
Summary: Aerys is known for leaving banquets unannounced, with nary a white cloak at his side.  As much as his sleek mane of silvery hair and purple, dragon-patterned garments attract attention, still he is able to slip out, somehow, without anyone noticing his departure.Tonight he has left the feast that celebrates Tywin’s return, and Tywin is a step or two past miffed.





	If I go far away

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was conceived of and partially written before WOIAF came out, which mentions Aerys fighting in the Stepstones during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Despite the fact that it now goes against canon, my friends and Tumblr followers encouraged me to finish it anyway, which I appreciate.

Aerys is known for leaving banquets unannounced, with nary a white cloak at his side.  As much as his sleek mane of silvery hair and purple, dragon-patterned garments attract attention, still he is able to slip out, somehow, without anyone noticing his departure.

Tonight he has left the feast that celebrates Tywin’s return, and Tywin is a step or two past miffed.  What is he, too jealous to hear about Tywin’s observations of Lyseni pleasure-house customs?  Aerys is a man grown, he is the King, and leaving his own Hand’s feast like a foolish child without so much as a word of excuse or apology is not how a King ought to behave.

Anytime Tywin thinks he understands this strange Targaryen friend of his, Aerys does yet another thing that defies sense.  For every moment of triumph and camaraderie, there are moments of confusion and frustration too great for Tywin to bear any longer.

Rhaella was once the only soul in the Red Keep who knew where Aerys disappeared to on these occasions; she has since shared the secret with Tywin, and so it is Tywin who goes to remove the King from his disappearances, and so it is Tywin who, tonight, leaves his own feast to do his duty.

There’s a dusty, forgotten staircase that spirals up to a small, cobwebbed tower room.  Aerys and Rhaella had played there as children, and it is there where Aerys goes when he abandons his kingly role.  Tonight, though it is nearly dark, Tywin can make out the silvery hair streaming down Aerys’s back and the gold brocade dragon on his tunic in the stern, cobalt sky.

Tywin shields his candle from the slight wind that blows through the open window and places it down on the grimy stone floor.

“You’re in your cups again, your grace,” Tywin starts, keeping his voice steady with a hint of brightness.  To use the wrong tone with Aerys when he’s in a mood is not a mistake Tywin has made, not once in his years as friend and Hand.   “Let me help you back to my—to the feast.”

Aerys does not turn around.  His hands are digging into his thighs and his shoulders are tensed.  Tywin imagines, as he often does, a dragon climbing up Aerys’s ribs and throat, straining to get out.

“I am king of this whole damned kingdom,” he says.  His voice is already slightly higher than it should be.  “But when I want to do something for myself, everyone says ‘Oh, Aerys is in his cups again.’  Why is that?”

Tywin sighs.  The true answer—it is easier to handle Aerys with too much wine in his slender body than to understand his sober whims—might land him in the black cells.  “I don’t know, Aerys.”

“They just think I spend my nights drinking wine and ale till the sun comes up, isn’t that it?”

Despite the anger in the king’s voice, Tywin drops the pretense.  “You’re my friend, Aerys, and this feast is for me.  I thought you’d want to celebrate my return from Lys.  And instead, you’re pouting in a tower.  Why?”

Aerys stares down at the beach and the Blackwater below them for so long Tywin wonders if Aerys had even heard him.

“Because I can’t do what you do,” he says at last.  “I’m the king, and I still can’t do what you do.”

Tywin would never ask _Are you mad?_ “You are King, yes,” he says, keeping his voice free from impatience.  “So you can do whatever you like.  What you just said…It’s all in your head, Aerys.”

Aerys’s hands are shaking so much that they cast shadows that move like crazed spiders on the stone wall.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t _what?_ ”

Aerys’s voice is thin with fear and yet still burns with the irrational fire of a Targaryen.  “I can’t go fuck any of your Lyseni whores.  I can’t venture across the Narrow Sea to pick out my own Myrish rugs.  I have to have someone _bring them_ to me as though I were still a babe.  No one will _ever_ celebrate my adventures.  They celebrate you, instead, and you’re only my Hand.”

Tywin bristles at the insult.  To stay calm, he tries to remember the things he enjoys about Aerys.  Little comes to mind.

“So go, your grace,” he says.  “Leave tomorrow.  No one will stop you.”

“I can’t leave home, Tywin.”  Aerys’s hands are still shaking, his back still turned.  “Something very bad will happen if I do.”

“That’s nonsense, your grace,” Tywin sighs.  “Even if something bad were to happen, there are people in the Red Keep who are sworn to protect you.  You know this.”

“Even you think I’m a fucking child!” Aerys shouts.  He whirls around and stares at Tywin with wide, wild eyes.  Anyone lesser than a Lannister would surely be afraid, seeing the Targaryen madness staring him right in the face.  “It’s not that.  I know someone will hide my Rhaegar away and protect my worthless sister.  I don’t care about that.  Something very bad will happen inside me if I go far away and it won’t stop.  Everything will look different and I—”

“Of course it’ll look different,” Tywin explains, as he would, in fact, explain to a child.  “That is part of the adventure.”

“No.  It’ll hurt me.  Nothing will be _right_ and I’ll be in danger.  I _can’t leave—_ ”

He cuts himself short and Tywin watches him collect himself.  His eyes narrow into their typical sneer.

“But you wouldn’t understand, would you, Tywin?  Humans are not meant to understand the dragon.”

Tywin nods.  “I suppose that may be true, your grace.”  Oh, he understands, he certainly does.  Aerys’s hands are still shaking.  There is nothing else to understand.


End file.
